My Least Favorite Meal
by YesNoMaybeIdk
Summary: Most young children hate green foods, right? Marissa Hailey Claire, the MK princess, only hates one. Her least-favorite food has a lot to do with peas . . . and a very important question Mario and Peach have no idea how to answer. Rated T for safety.


**Hello mah peeps! Welcome to the wonderful, new world of stories by yours truly, YesNoMaybeIdk! Well, I told you I was gonna post this, and I did. Now for a warning: this story, like some parts of The Waiting Game, is slightly pervish, but it's funny. Both my mom and dad thought it was pretty cute.  
**

**So, on with the story. This hilariously sick story XDDDD**

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**My Least-Favorite Meal**

"Can you believe she was ever that small?"

On a normal day, while Marissa Hailey Claire was off in the castle gardens with Toadsworth, Mario and Peach were perusing through the family album, which was filling up rapidly. They were gushing over a picture of the princess as a newborn (after she and Peach were cleaned up, of course).

"I know. I can't believe you were ever that big," Mario replied, prompting a tweak on the nose from Peach. He chuckled then frowned. "Dang it, I feel old."

Peach giggled. "We're only thirty-three, Mario." She sighed. "Can I ask you something?"

Mario grinned. "Before you do, take a look at this." He held up a picture of his bride in her stunning wedding dress. "You looked like the epitome of an angel."

"That's what I'm wondering - do I still look like that to you? Even after all that pregnancy weight and seven years of parenthood?"

"Yes, darling, you'll always be my angel." The King gave his Queen a sweet kiss to prove his point. "You haven't changed one bit."

Peach brightened. "I'm glad you still think so. I don't know why looks are so important to me. You've shown me they don't matter."

"Well, I sure as heck didn't excel in the 'knight-in-shining-armor' look. It didn't really fit my job description."

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant that you always loved me for who I am and put my appearance as second-priority." Peach smiled. "Can I ask you something else?"

Mario grinned. "Sure."

"What if I get pregnant again? Will you still find me pretty?"

"Sweetheart, my vows to you weren't to cherish you only if you were model-thin. I will always love you no matter what." Mario's eyes sparkled.

Peach blushed. "Thank you."

Suddenly Marissa stumbled in. "What are you doing?" she asked sweetly.

"Looking at pictures," Mario replied. "Want to join us?"

"Okay," said Marissa, hopping up onto the living room couch and snuggling in between her parents. She caught the picture of herself as a baby. "Is that me?"

"Indeed it is," said Peach. "That's when you arrived. We were so happy."

"Why?" Marissa asked curiously.

"Oh, honey, you are our first child. We couldn't have been more overjoyed when you came into the world." Mario gave his daughter a hug and a kiss on the top of her head.

"'Came into the world'? What do you mean?"

Mario cleared his throat. "I mean when you were born. That picture was taken right after you came-"

Mario caught Peach giving him the cutthroat motion, telling him to watch his words.

"Right. Well it was taken once you were cleaned up and handed back to us."

"Who took me?"

"A nurse," Peach explained. "We had you in a special building where mommies have their babies without being in a hospital room. After you arrived, one of the nurses took you to be measured, weighed, and wrapped up warm and snugly in your blanket."

"That's the same blanket I use for my dolls. I'm seven. This blanket is seven years old!" Marissa marveled at her little souvenir. "Mama?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Where do babies come from?"

Mario and Peach faltered. "What, honey?" Peach asked, trying to keep the surprise and defeat out of her voice. Neither parent was prepared for the explanation, despite living the process firsthand.

"Where do babies come from?" Marissa repeated. "Where did I come from?"

"Dinnertime!" Mario suddenly exclaimed, taking his wife by the hand and leading her into the kitchen.

"WHAT?" Marissa cried, confused.

Once in the kitchen, both adults heaved a great sigh.

"Great, now she thinks she's here because we ate her," said Peach, half-scolding her husband. "What do we do?" She began pacing back and forth.

"I don't know. We can't tell her the real terms."

"She doesn't know what the specific parts are. I think the most she knows is that a couple gets married and simply has a baby. Poof! It appears."

"Yeah, but she'll start a round of questions. I think we'll have to substitute. Follow my lead." Mario took a deep breath and stepped back into the living room.

"Sweetheart?" Mario called. He found Marissa cowering behind the couch.

"Here, honey, I'm sorry. We didn't eat you. Really. I pinky-promise." Mario held out his hand, but Marissa didn't accept it. She simply plopped herself back on the couch and crossed her arms, giving her parents the what's-the-story look.

"Babies come from their mother's belly."

"So you ate me."

"No!" Mario slapped his forehead. Peach took over. "Babies don't grow in their mother's stomach, sweetheart. They grow in a special part of Mommy called the . . ." She looked over at Mario, desperately hoping he would fill her in.

"The pea-pod," Mario chimed nervously.

"The . . . pea-pod?" Marissa raised her tiny eyebrows.

"Yes. All Mommies have a special pod that keeps the baby, as it grows from the size of a pea to a newborn, until it is ready to face the world. And in there the baby is warm and safe." Mario blushed. Peach put her hand on his shoulder.

"The pea-pod?" Marissa repeated.

"Y-yes," Mario replied.

"How did I get in there?"

Both parents blushed fiercely. "Um-the spaghetti's overheating! Be right back!" Peach dragged Mario back into the kitchen. Even in her distressed state, she had to laugh.

"Good job," she giggled. "I could never have come up with that."

The corners of Mario's mouth turned upward slightly. "Thanks. But now we have to explain . . . it."

"Don't worry. Let me handle this." The two walked out briskly. Mario desperately hoped Peach had a plan.

"Okay, Marissa," said Peach, rocking back and forth on her feet. Marissa looked at her expectantly. "Uh . . . how you got in there . . . well, a while after your father and I got married, after we took a bath one night-separately, of course-we forgot to get into our pajamas and we headed off to bed. And then during that time, part of Daddy got inside of the opening to my pea-pod. And then you began to grow."

"Oh." Marissa nodded. "What's the part from Daddy called?"

"That part is called the pe-"

"AHEM! AHEM!" Mario cleared his throat loudly.

"Let me finish," Peach reproved sternly. "That part is called the pe . . . pe . . . pea shooter!" Peach looked over at her husband for approval and noticed the most peculiar look on his face. "Mario? Are you okay?"

He said nothing. He simply walked into the kitchen. Seconds later, uproarious laughter could be heard through the door.

"Excuse me, honey," Peach muttered. Marissa was once again confused. Why were her parents acting so strangely?

Once inside, Peach noticed that Mario was gripping the corner of the stove, holding his stomach as he laughed hysterically. Once he noticed his wife's presence, he couldn't help but cry and laugh even harder.

Peach put her hands on her hips. "Oh, shut up! We were doing a theme with perhaps the smallest vegetable. It . . ." Peach could feel the giggles rise. "I-it was all I could think of!" She, too, couldn't help but howl.

Mario struggled to catch his breath. "That was perfect! Oh, my Sta-a-a-a-rs!" He collapsed in another fit of chuckles.

Peach steadied herself on his shoulder. "I can't believe I said that! Oh, gosh . . . well, we certainly did a good job."

"Yeah. I could really go for some spaghetti right now. I need some tomato sauce to my face."

"Actually, the cooks are preparing a meal for us tonight."

"Oh, okay. Mind if we check the menu?"

"S-sure," said Peach with a final giggle. She walked over to the menu posted on the far wall, arriving before her husband. After that ordeal, they were actually rather pleased with themselves and ready to get on with the rest of the evening.

"Let's see . . . Monday night . . . oh . . . oh, no."

"What is it?" asked Mario.

"Look."

Mario looked under the Monday label. "Oh, Stars, no . . . I think I'm going to be sick."

Meanwhile, Marissa was getting tired of waiting for her parents. Toadsworth came into the living room.

"Hi, Grandpa Toadsworth." Marissa flashed him a smile.

"Hello, pet. Where are your mother and father?"

"In the kitchen, making spaghetti."

"Oh, that's impossible. The cooks should be doing the meal tonight."

"Oh, okay. What are we having?"

"Pea soup, as I recall," Toadsworth replied. He smiled at her. Marissa quickly fled the room, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"My goodness, I do hope her parents teach her to like vegetables." He shook his head, took one last look after Marissa, and headed up to the office.

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**Yup Marissa's scarred for life XDDDD and I think Mario and Peach are, too.**

**Don't worry they'll muster up courage and try to explain everything to Marissa without the fake terms for our sea-monkey-making systems. But I am not turning that into another story cuz it's totally pointless. Plus I'd have to rate it M for the Mention of multiple terms and processes that are very strange and kinda gross. X(  
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**Peace!  
**

**~YesNoMaybeIdk  
**


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